Child of War
by Mizuno Mouri
Summary: This was written to a poem I wrote called Child of War. It basically deals with what war does to people, more specifically the Gundam Pilots.


Title: Child of War

Title: Child of War

Author: Mizuno Mouri (subtledemon@aol.com)

Archive: Darkflame's and others! You know who you are ^_~

Category: One-shot

Pairings: None 

Rating: PG-13

Labels/Warnings: Slight Bastardization of characters.

Notes: A fic written to a poem not much more than that.

Disclaimers: I own nothing; I'm making nothing off of this. So don't sue ^^;; Gundam Wing is owned by more powerful people than myself. I wish I were one of them! The poem "Child of War" is mine however... so ask before you use it... if you use it ^^;;

Feedback: C & C always welcomed!! All comments, includin' flames (which will be used to light the fireplace), will receive a reply.

*Dedicated to Tyr-sama.*

[poetry]

Child of War

By Mizuno Mouri

[Bombs sound, gunfire fills the air

The time has come 

Another child of war has been born]

The bomb went off and the building exploded. He stepped back and watched as it crumbled to the ground. Nothing, no one, not a thing was to survive. It was his mission, to kill those that were in the building and destroy the mobile suits that were in the vicinity. His mission was complete.

"Ninmu Kanryou." He spoke solemnly, not a hint of emotion making itself apparent in his voice. The fire of the crumbling building reflected in his eyes, but nothing showed when he heard the screams of those that were being swallowed by the flames of destruction.

[Born of pain, grief, and sorrow

Destined to live life as a slave 

To destruction]

His eyes stared blankly at the grim battle scene before him; he was passive as normal. Emotion once again not present in the face of this boy, yet there was a flicker in those forested eyes of his. A look of defiance, he had beaten his enemies once more and proved that he could live on to another battle. 

Walking the streets, he saw the news casts about what he had done. The faces of the family members of those he had killed. What was the difference to him, he had suffered when he was a child and yet he suffered now too. They could handle it, he did.

[A lone boy stands among the rumble

Standing among it proudly,

An odd look over comes his face

He smiles wickedly]

He searched through the destroyed base, looking for survivors. His eyes scan through the destruction that had befallen the area. Nothing could ever compare to the things he has done to the people here. He shrugs it off; it shouldn't matter to him. They would've done it to him had he not killed them first.

Something moved, an arm. He whipped around, his braid swinging around with him. Walking quickly over to the fallen soldier, he looked into his eyes and saw what he knew should be there, fear.

"Please... don't kill me." He whimpered and pleaded with the boy. The boy shook his head and removed a knife from his shirt sleeve.

"There can be no survivors." He leaned over quickly, grabbed the soldier, and slit his throat. That soldier had been no older than himself and yet he didn't regret what he had done.

[Not weary of the destruction around he,

He accepts it with glee, 

For it was he that had created it,

By his own hands, he caused the people's

death, and not a single tear befalls his face.]

Smoldering smoke filled the area, heated infernos surrounded him, and he laughed. Laughed because he caused it and he enjoyed doing it. Those that were weak did not deserve the right to even battle him. For all this destruction and madness he had created he smiled, the only thing that was remotely bright in all of this.

The calls from those far away from the battle zone, condemning him for his actions, they cursed at him, called him inhuman and heartless. The smile on his face flickered into a sadistic grin. He didn't care, his job was done, and they were dead to him.

[Falling to his knees, he offered a prayer 

to the gods that were out there. 

May they find forgiveness for him

and those he has killed]

He fell out of the infernal machine, collapsing to his knees and bringing his hands together. Bowing his head against them, he prayed. Praying for himself, his comrades, and those that have been killed. He prayed for their very souls. Destruction controlled them now. They yearned and desired it and in his own heart, he knew it and there was nothing he could do.

Pain reflected in his heart, slowly devouring him whole. Nothing reached him after the destruction, only the pain of those deaths that he had caused, and even then it didn't faze him that much. After all he was a fighter, he wouldn't let those things get to him. 

[He stands back up and walks off, 

A child of war, born in despair, 

Destined to be a slave to destruction.]

They fight on, regardless of what the others say about them. They fight for what they believe in and nothing else and yet some part of them still desires that destruction, the bliss of it, and the feeling that it causes. Battles wage on and so does war. One fight begets another and the chain continues, the endless chain of destruction and death. To never be able to escape it is their destiny.

~Owari~

*scurries off* Hope it was err umm enjoyed? And perhaps Tyr-sama was appeased with her offering...


End file.
